“Surely, Aunt Caroline’s sense of decorum would prohibit her from doing so. She cannot miss her own tea with a nobleman of Dustshore’s standing.” Sighing, Cleo shook her head. “I do not have time for this.”
“And yet ye must make the time in order tae keep the peace or ye will nae be able tae do anything that ye desire in catching yer faither’s murderer. If ye dinnae humor her in this, then she will nae cease in her efforts tae marry ye off. My advice is tae allow her tae believe that she is winning the argument, and then she will ease her determination a bit, at least enough tae get ye through this difficult time.”
The shop boy stood between the two of them, his mouth agape in shock at the open nature of their conversation and the mention of murder having occurred. When their attention turned to him, he flushed red with a combination of fear and embarrassment. “My apologies, young man,” Cleo set the packages down and moved to take a coin from the kitchen’s money stash for just such occasions as tipping delivery boys and the like. “Please do not concern yourself with our discussions of my father’s passing.”
The last thing that I need is a young boy running about the streets of the village telling anyone who would listen about this. I do not need to warn Father’s murderer that I am searching for them anymore than my protestations upon hearing of his death already have.Cleo studied the boy’s eyes to see if he had any intention of remaining quiet.
“Was your father truly murdered, Miss? We were all told in the village that the professor killed himself,” the boy asked wide eyed with curiosity.
Cleo sighed, unsure what to do with or say to the boy to deter him. Deciding the truth was better than to perpetuate the currently accepted lie, Cleo answered as best that she could without scaring him. “Yes, I do believe that my father was murdered, but you are correct in that the constables do not currently share that view. I ask for the sake of my father’s memory, that you not share anything that you have heard here with your friends and customers upon the streets.”
“I would never do such a thing, Miss. My mother taught me never to speak of other’s affairs when making my deliveries; otherwise our own business would suffer.”
“Your mother is a wise woman.”
“Indeed, Miss,” the boy nodded. “She keeps me out of trouble.” His face belied a genuine mixture of relief and disappointment at this admittance of motherly restriction.
Cleo smiled in spite of herself at seeing it. “Do you get into trouble often?”
The boy blushed and shuffled his feet. “Not of a purpose, mind, but…” his words drifted off as he was too embarrassed to continue on.
Cleo chuckled in empathy. “I understand.”
The boy looked relieved but persisted in shuffling around awkwardly for a moment before finding the courage to speak. “I could help you.”
“Help me? Help me, how?”
“I could listen for any information about your father and come and tell you about it. I am small and no one ever pays any attention to me.”
Cleo’s heart constricted in her chest for the young boy’s offer of aid. She knelt down in front of him and smiled gently. “What is your name?”
“Henri, Miss, with an ‘I’, Henri George Jones. My mother pronounces it the French way, but my father says I am English and should be addressed as such.”
Cleo smiled and extended her head in greeting. “I am Miss Cleo Wallace. It is a pleasure to meet you, Henri. My father’s name was Henry as well.”
“Yes, Miss. I met the professor at my father’s shop. He was a kind man.”
“Indeed, he was.” Cleo swallowed a lump of tears in her throat that threatened to spill over at the sincerity of the boy’s words. “You have made a kind offer, Henri, but I cannot accept.”
“Why not?”
“Because to do such a thing as spying upon others would put you in danger. I cannot be responsible for placing you in such a position.”
“It would not be spying, Miss, if I am only repeating what I have heard.” The boy looked at her with such openness that Cleo could not help but like him.
“I thank you, but I cannot accept your offer of aid; however, I will accept your friendship, if that is acceptable to you.”
Henri beamed happily at Cleo’s words. “Yes, Miss, I would be pleased indeed to have a friend in the professor’s daughter.”
“Excellent,” Cleo smiled, shaking his smaller hand in agreement. “Now off home with you before your parents begin to grow concerned by your absence.”
Henri pulled on his cap and ran out of the door with a wide smile upon his lips. “Ye ken that lad is nae going tae listen tae ye one bit about nae spying.”
“I am afraid so, but I hope that we are both wrong about that. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to him for my sake.”
“The chances o’ him finding out anything about yer faither’s death are little tae none. I wouldnae fash over much about it.”
“Let us hope.”
